Diazepam
by Georgshadow
Summary: Johnny doesn't respond well to narcotics or spider bites. Slash satire.


A/N: Since you'll likely be alone on Valentine's Day, here's an extremely short "Johnny is goofy" slashfic for your enjoyment.

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><p>"Keep him conscious," Dr. Morton says to me on the biophone as the attendants load him into the ambulance. "I know you can keep him talking, Roy. If anyone can, it's you."<p>

So I do my best to follow the doctor's orders. As the ambulance speeds away, I clutch the bag of Ringer's and hover over him, being more of a mother hen than ever.

"Hey, Johnny," I call to him, trying not to let on to my anxiety as I check the weeping bite on his arm. Of all the stupid places to have a run, it just _had_ to be the Bug Museum. It just _had_ to be a heart case right in the middle of the poisonous spider exhibit.

"…s'that you, Roy?" Johnny mumbles, blinking at me, semi-blind already. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch my extremely accident-prone partner struggle to stay awake.

"How do you feel?" I ask him, forcing myself to remain calm.

"Ohh, ya know," he slurs tiredly. "It's kinda like bein' on MS."

I force a laugh and smile at him so he can't tell how afraid I am. "You don't respond very well to narcotics, do ya Pally?"

"Aw, no way, he says, smiling back at me.

"Tell me about the last time you got hurt," I prompt him, hoping the chance to brag about his injuries will be enough to keep him talking.

"Last time…" he sighs, slowly beginning to drift off.

Before I can stop myself, I'm touching his face, trying to wake him. "Johnny!" I call.

"I'm thinkin'!" he grumbles. "Oh, right. It was… that time I dislocated my shoulder, I think."

"You had a hard time, huh?" I sigh in relief, knowing he's already too far gone to tell I'm talking to him like a child. "Do you remember what happened?"

He gives a weak laugh and turns to the ambulance attendant. "I was… so mad at Dr. Early for makin' me sit up and move my arm that I ast him if he'd attended Josef Mengele's school of medicine."

The attendant chuckles at the remark and glances at me before trying, "Ya did, huh?"

"Mmmhmm," Johnny sighs. Talking takes a lot of energy for him now, and he takes a long, shaky breath before continuing. "…gave me a shot of hydrocodone. Made my face swell up like a got-damned tick."

I force myself to laugh, trying to egg him on, and the ambulance attendant does the same.

It does the trick, and while his head rolls about on the pillow, he continues. "They put me on muscle relaxers. Damn things… I kept havin' all these weird dreams." Suddenly a smile begins to spread across his face and he manages to open his eyes, meeting my gaze. "Damn things were so strong, I couldn't keep an erection to save my life. Roy was so horny by the time the 'scrip ran out, he was hurtin' worse than me, I tell ya what."

The silence that suddenly fills the ambulance is punctuated only by the siren cutting out as we pull up to the emergency room at Rampart. I can't bring myself to look at the attendant as I push the doors open, but I can feel him staring at me as we drag the stretcher into the hospital. As we do, the venom has begun to drive Johnny to writhe in pain.

"Roy…" he groans and grabs at my forearm blinking at the bright lights above him.

"Yeah?" I ask, my concern for him making me all but forgive him for blabbing to the ambulance attendant.

"I… I don't wanna die!" he yelps.

"You're not gonna," I insist as Dr. Morton guides us into treatment room 3. "We're already at Rampart."

"Ohh, good," he mumbles, calming down as the orderlies lift him onto the treatment table. "And if I do pull through, make sure to tell 'em not to give me any muscle relaxers, okay?"

"Does he have an allergy to diazepam?" Dr. Morton asks me, concerned.

"Well, I wouldn't call it an allergy," Johnny slurs, struggling to sit up. "Ya see, doc, last time I got hurt…"

"I'm outta here," the ambulance attendant mutters and rolls his eyes in disgust before Johnny can finish his sentence.

"What? What is this all about?" Morton crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"You know," I sigh. "I think I'd better take off, too."

Morton shakes his head at me, and just as I stalk out of the treatment room I can hear Johnny start all over again.

"Ya see, I was on muscle relaxers. They gave me all these crazy dreams…"


End file.
